Crying on Christmas E̶v̶e̶
(Nothing to see here.)
I like to hide my things.
In an apartment, it's easy.
No one here likes to sing.
Everyone's usually busy.
•
Hiding things...
From significant others, or others.
It's all quite funny.
Except for the quarrels of brothers.
•
Maybe it doesn't matter
That I die from laughter...
That echo through these walls
To mark a death last fall by.
•
I said my goodbyes
Jumping on a redeye.
Trying not to show my
Own pair of red eyes.
•••
And when I landed,
Kind of like some Hallmark special town.
But I'd been—
I'd already come down,
So there was a fallout.
It was so hot out.
I couldn't breathe,
Couldn't believe what was behind me...
What would precede.
•••
Foreshadow.
Foresee...
Don't get to see no ending.
And
I swear,
It likes to keep us spinning.
It follows.
It smiles.
A shadow.
Your own.
•
I like to hide my things...
Like weaving a soul through a riddle.
There's always room to wiggle
If you can't ride the dream.
•
Ride the dream.
Waves come and go.
I hope you can stay.
I hope you know...
•
•
•
He said,
Don't go cryin' on Christmas Eve.
About the Creator
Ángel Sierra
Rhymes, riddles, and occasionally, she giggles.
Every-writer, it's all in me... DO LOOK DOWN!
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